


Coo d'État

by vesperify



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Birds, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperify/pseuds/vesperify
Summary: Stolen moments between a couple of bird lovers.





	Coo d'État

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moreissuesthanvogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreissuesthanvogue/gifts).



> A huge thank you to [evocates](http://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/pseuds/evocates) for the helping with translations (and making those lines 80x more romantic than they were), as well as a million thank yous and a medal to [blackice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blackice/pseuds/blackice), who listened to me cry over this exchange over and over again, who read through my writing and looked at my art and continuously helped me every step of the way!!
> 
> Translations have been put in the end-of-story notes.

_Tick. Tock._

Chirrut traced another shape in the air, letting his hand drift into a smooth arc. Short, sharp moves, then curved lines. In his mind, he could imagine black ink spreading from his fingertips, blotting crisp, white paper. Blacks, then greys. Meaningless shapes that meant something when put together. The clock hands made the only sounds in the room, clicking in tandem with each stroke his hand made.

_Tick. Tock._

_Tick. Tock._

_Tick. Tock-_

Somewhere, he could hear a bell ringing, signalling the hour. Still, the room was empty, save for himself. He shook his head, letting his hand drop. Not that he’d really been _expecting_ anyone to show up - what high schooler wanted to spend their time watching birds, when there were clubs like theatre, or band, or basketball?

Still, he felt disappointment well up in his stomach, heavy.

Chirrut slid off the desk, then threw his arms over his head, reaching high as he stretched. His back cracked, and then his shoulders, draining out the tension that had built up in his muscles while he had waited the hour out.

“Uhm…?”

His head snapped towards the doorway at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He dropped his hands, squawking. There was a faint chuckle, voice rumbling like low thunder. Soothing, and deep, an unassumingly kind sound, gruff but with an undertone of kindness. He could feel a simmer under his skin, warmth in response to sound. “What-?”

“Sorry, sorry.” The voice sounded light, gentle, and his heart skipped a beat. Chirrut could hear the other step closer, uncertain, “Is this the bird watching club?”

And, like a switch, Chirrut brightened, a grin spreading on his face. He strode towards the other, practically skipping his steps. “You’re here for the club?”

“Well, yes, I-”

“Great!” Chirrut bounced on the balls of his feet, “I’m Chirrut Imwe! Club president!” he paused for a moment, “and vice president, actually. And treasurer. And secretary.” He paused again. “Though if you want to take on a role, it’s a prime time right now. No competition.”

A faint laugh, one that sounded moreso unused to laughter than nervous.

“I see. An unambitious group, are we?”

“What do you think? We just sit around, waiting for birds.”

“I think it’s a little more than that.”

Chirrut couldn’t help but grin a little harder. He stuck out a hand toward what he hoped was in the direction of the other student. “So, who’s my vice president?”

“Baze. Baze Malbus.” The other had a firm grasp, but gentle, and the touch was enough to send little waves of heat just under Chirrut’s skin.  

“A pleasure to meet you, Baze.”

/ / / 

Baze Malbus was a gentle man. Seventeen year old. Whatever.

He was kind, patient, quiet. But his presence was strong, soothing. Sometimes, Chirrut would get lost, listening to the wind, to the twittering of birds and rustling of leaves, and then suddenly Baze would be there, all encompassing and warm, always a quiet, but never silent.

Such as now.

Chirrut could hear Baze settling beside him, his arm brushing against Chirrut’s shoulder.

“Fifteen  minutes until the bell rings. Have you eaten yet?”

“Has it been that long?” He felt warm glass being placed in his hand. Absentmindedly, he thumbed the container's lid, and turned his head towards where Baze sat. “What’s for lunch?”

“Rice.”

“What else?”

“More rice. It’s good for you.”

“I’ve never had to eat this much rice until I met you.” He heard a deep rumbling - Baze’s laugh, low, quiet, but physically strong - and smiled. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I ate while you were listening to the winds.”

“How do you know I wasn’t just ignoring you?”

He felt Baze shift, and then something approach his face, slowly. Chirrut didn’t move, letting Baze’s broad fingers touch his forehead, then the space between his brows. “You get… soft. Relaxed. When you’re listening. Your face is usually pulled in big expressions, but here? You’re quiet.”

Chirrut froze, feeling his heart start to beat faster, hard thumps inside his chest. Baze was gentle, ever so gentle, and Chirrut could feel his face warm under the other’s touch. Fingers drifted down, tracing a trail that Chirrut couldn’t follow, from the bridge of his nose to his cheekbones, and then to his jaw.

Then there was a tap again the bone of his jaw. “Eat your lunch. Don’t waste my mother’s food.”

Then the touch was gone. Still, Chirrut couldn’t help but grin, giddiness bubbling up in him.

“Only if you feed me.” He pressed up against his taller friend, making the other groan. “I’m a helpless baby bird. Help me, Baze.”

“I’ll feed you _worms_ next time.”

“Regurgitated worms?”

He felt Baze shake his head, an exasperated sigh blowing right over his head.

/ / / 

“你从哪里来的?”

Chirrut tilted his head towards his friend, and frowned when he didn’t recognize the words. “What?”

“你从… uhm, do you know Mandarin?”

Chirrut grinned wryly, shaking his head once. “Sorry, no. Boston, born and bred.”

“Oh... “ He could hear rustling as Baze shifted on his spot, arm brushing against his own. The warmth between them had Chirrut shivering, gooseflesh rising on his skin. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“You’re not the first.”

“So, your family…?”

Chirrut let out a dramatic, heavy sigh. “My family? Tragically, they abandoned me to my fate when I was a mere babe. Must have found the whole eyes thing unnerving.”

“I’m so-”

“If you say you’re sorry, Baze Malbus, I will hit you.” He could hear Baze’s mouth clamp shut, teeth gnashing against teeth. Shaking his head, Chirrut nudged his arm against his bigger friend, ignoring the sudden warmth that spread through him when they touched. “It’s not so much a big deal. I was angrier when I was younger. A lot angrier. Still am sometimes.” He shrugged, listening to the faint sound of their sleeves brushing against one another. “The orphanage isn’t bad. It’s actually pretty homey. Us kids get to know each other pretty well. But sometimes you still want more, you know? A mom, a dad. Or two moms or two dads. All making dumplings together around a table. And then I get angry. Because I’ll never have that.” He bowed his head, voice quiet. “And then I suddenly feel very lonely. My family isn’t one made with strong bonds. And I’d very much like one that did.”

“That’s… understandable.”

Chirrut threw his head back, laughing. “Are you always so agreeable?”

Baze seemed to jolt. Chirrut briefly mourned the loss of contact - his arm suddenly seemed much colder without Baze to warm him. “I-” His voice stuttered, and Chirrut could imagine him struggling, could imagine a faint pink spreading across his cheeks. Slowly, he reached out a hand, letting it hover in front of where he thought Baze’s face might be, hoping, for a moment, that Baze would know what he wanted.

But Baze wasn’t telepathic, and Chirrut was too much of a coward to ask for what he wanted.

“I- Chirrut?”

“Sorry, I thought I heard a fly.”

“O-Oh. I see.”

A silence washed over them. Chirrut canted his ear towards his friend, listening to Baze breathe. _In. Out._ A steady soothing rhythm. He could feel his heart assimilate to the sound, adopting a steady beat. One _thump_ , followed by a second. Slow, calm, just like each breath Baze took.

And moments like this, Chirrut could pretend that this two year friendship was something more. That they weren’t just best friends. That Chirrut didn’t have to hide, didn’t have to pretend that Baze’s laugh set his heart beating faster than a racehorse, or that feeling Baze’s hand brush against his didn’t send heat searing through him. He could pretend that what they had was something with a different love, but loving nonetheless.

Instead, he let a smile tug onto his face, and turned to his taller friend.

“You should teach me.”

Baze stiffened. There was a pause, then, “What?”

“Mandarin. Teach me.”

“Uhm… Why?”

“How else can I adopt patriotic pride?”

“I- uhm. Can you say ‘hello’?”

“你好, right?”

“Right, then-”

“C’mon, Baze, give me a phrase. This’ll go by too slowly if you just go word by word. Throw me in the metaphorical pool!”

“Alright, uhm. 十年前, 我是北京来的. 现在, 我在跟你吃中午饭.” Baze tapped his finger against a container, voice light “每天，我能陪你，聊你，和你笑. 一瞬间， 就成了珍贵.” Baze paused, then murmured, “我喜欢你. 我真的喜欢你.” His voice died off, and he suddenly stood. Chirrut toppled over, hands flying out to catch himself on the ground.

“Baze, what?”

“Sorry. I’m not a teacher - I guess you should learn your patriotic pride in class.”

“I-”

“The bell’s going to ring.” Chirrut could hear Baze extending in arm out to him. Something about his voice sounded… off. Unsure. Unsettled. He took Baze’s hand, steadying himself as he stood.

“Are you alright?”

And then-

Chirrut could feel a finger brush over his cheek, then over the shell of his ear. His breath hitched, his useless eyes widening in response. Sound drowned out until there was nothing but that gentle touch over his skin, tracing his ear and setting him aflame.

God, he was so in love.

Then the touch was suddenly gone and Chirrut was left reeling, disoriented. He blinked, hands reaching out to where Baze stood tense and unmoving. “Baze…?”

A shrill ringing interrupted him. Chirrut gasped, his palms slapping over his ears at the sudden noise.

And then he could feel Baze’s hand on his arm, not grabbing, just a firm presence. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late for class.”

There were questions burning in him, on the ridge of his lips, demanding to be asked. Chirrut could still feel Baze’s finger on him, tracing his skin, his bones. But he clamped his mouth shut, nodded with a tight smile and took his friend’s arm.

He’d take a minute, or maybe an hour, later, to treasure that lost moment.

And then he’d move on, and continue being the best friend he could so that Baze would never leave him behind.

/ / / 

“Why did Chirrut start a bird _watching_ club?”

Chirrut paused, fingers wrapped around the door handle. He canted his ear towards the window, feeling his smile drop from his face.

“Like… he can’t see anything. What the point?” He could hear Kala make a sharp disapproving grunt, “Hey! Don’t look at me like that. You’re wondering too, aren’t you?”

“Kay, that’s enough.”

“Look, I don’t mean anything _bad_ by it but it just seems so pointless to me? Like, he’s amazing. He could be in any other club - martial arts? Wrestling? Maybe music? But instead he’s here, leading a bird watching club without, you know, being able to actually _watch_ them.”

Chirrut took a deep breath, fingers tightening around the smooth metal of the doorknob, ready to burst in. He could feel his head pounding a little too hard, shoulders drawing a little too tense. Could feel a scream itching in his throat, frustration mounting inside him and ready to spill over and God, even his own friends, they were so, _so-_

“You’re wrong.” He paused, hearing Baze’s voice. Inside the room, he could hear people suddenly pause, the rustling of paper and plastic packaging stop. Baze’s voice, quiet yet firm, was enough to grab all the attention in the room.

“He doesn’t need his eyes to see.”

“...Huh?”

“Chirrut… he can hear the birds. Can hear their wings as they fly into the sky, or as they’re gliding through the air. He likes… to listen to them sing at one another. Like when they’re chirping, communicating.” Baze paused. Chirrut could hear him standing, moving around the room like the general around an army. There was a laughing bubbling inside him, brought forward with anxious energy, “He likes to know how they are in their community, how they interact, and feel, and love. Even if they’re _birds_ , he just… knows. From how they sound.” Another pause. Chirrut wondered if the other students had ever heard Baze talk this much, “He can watch them without needing eyes, and picks up on more than we do just by seeing.”

Then the metal under his hand slipped inward towards the room. Chirrut stumbled, right into Baze’s chest, and he could feel the faint rumbling inside his friend’s chest when he laughed.

“And sometimes, this one sees much more than we’d like without having to actually see.”

Chirrut could feel his face turning pink, but he grinned up at his friend anyways. He reached out a hand, fingers just inches away from Baze’s face, quietly wishing, not for the first time, that he could see the other’s smile. But also knowing that was something he’d had to ask for, and the words couldn’t quite leave his mouth.

But this? Being known so well by someone he loved so dearly? That could satisfy him for now.

Baze’s hand clasped his, and together, they joined their clubmates at the table. And Chirrut smiled as he listened to the chirping of his friends surround him, voices like birds trilling at one another.

/ / /

“Guys?”

Silence.

“Guuuuuuys?”

“Jyn, shut up, you’ll scare away the birds.”

“Why don’t _you_ shut up, C _ass_ ian-”

“Both of you, quiet, or you’ll scare off the doves.” Baze voice was firm, but not unkind. Chirrut could imagine him, eyes glued to the mourning doves that were hopping along on the tree branches.

“ _Why_? We’re still on school grounds. We see mourning doves all the time!”

Baze grunted in response.

“Jyn, every bird is worth watching. Besides, think of it as… practice.” Chirrut tilted his head to the side, listening as the dove twittered about. One hop, then another. A quiet chirp, then one more hop. “Besides, it’s rare that Baze gets to draw live specimens.”

“Can’t you just google bird references?”

“It’s not the same, little sister.” The sound of skin wiping against paper, brushing over lead trails. Chirrut tapped Baze’s shoulder and, once the other nodded, rested his hand over Baze’s. He could feel the other’s muscles moving in every arc, his grip firm, but not tense. Relaxed, quick lines that let Chirrut conjure an image of the sketch in his head.

And, of course, like this, Chirrut could almost pretend they were holding hands.  

“Ugh, fine, but this is boring.” He could hear Jyn plop down, as well as an annoyed grunt from Cassian. Another _plop_ was heard as Cassian sat down, grumbling. “Mourning dove, huh? Just like that one guy from Hatoful Boyfriend.”

Immediately, Cassian groaned. “Would you stop bringing up that dumb game?”

“Nageki Fujishiro! Quiet freshman who like books. Would you date him?”

Another groan from Cassian. “No. I wouldn’t date Nageki Fujishiro. I wouldn’t date any of them. I wouldn’t date a _goddamn bird, Jyn_.”

“You’re no fun. Baze?”

“No. Not my type.”

At this, Chirrut perked up, humming lightly. “Oh?” He hooked his chin over Baze’s shoulder, grinning at the other. “You have a type?”

“The mourning dove looks like it’s going to fly.”

Letting out an airy laugh, Chirrut quietened, listening instead for the sound of the bird spreading its wings, feathers ruffling. Then, the sound of a couple chirps, bright as the bird flapped its wings and took off.

Baze’s hand was still moving, starting another quick sketch. From his movements, Chirrut could draw the image of a bird spreading its wings, ready to fly, its long neck turned up towards the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a common bird.”

“But you think it’s beautiful too, don’t you?”

Without being able to see, he knew Baze was smiling the same soft smile he’d had the opportunity to touch before.  

“Chirrut, hey, you never answered the question!” Jyn’s voice cut through the air. “Would you date Nageki Fujishiro?”

“Quiet, bookish type?” Chirrut hummed. He thought of Baze, of the way the other got no louder in libraries, but seemed to gain energy just by being near books. Of the sound of pages turning, and the smell of ink. The way, quietly, he’d read to Chirrut from books that didn’t have a Braille transcript, and how he’d guide Chirrut’s fingers over pictures of different birds and whisper the colour of their feathers so that Chirrut could _see_ them. “Well. Sounds up my alley.”

Cassian choked, but it was drowned by the sound of Jyn’s triumph. “Yes! See? Cassian, you’re just a loser.”

“What the hell, man. They’re _birds_.”

Chirrut laughed and pressed his cheek against Baze’s shoulder.

“What about you, Baze? Which bird would you date?”

Baze grunted, dusting off his sketchbook. “Ryouta Kawara.”

“Ryouta Kawara?”

‘The troublesome one. Responsible and kind, but real troublesome.” Chirrut took his hand back as Baze started to shove his things in his bag. “A little shit, but no less endearing.”

“Yeah? That’s the type you like, hm?” Chirrut stood up and dusted off his pants. “I”ll keep an eye out.”

Baze sounded amused as he asked. “Why would you do that?”

“So I can be a proper _wing_ man.” Chirrut grinned cheekily as Baze huffed a quiet laugh. He held out an expectant hand when Baze stood, and soon their arms were linked.

Then, even more quiet, so only Chirrut could hear, “I’ll believe it _wren_ I see it.” 

/ / /

Chirrut leaned his head against Baze’s shoulder. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Had fun?”

“Always.”

Chirrut smiled, lifting an arm until his knuckles hit the plastic sheen of the seat in front of him. The bus drove smoothly, the other students silent or asleep. He pointed his index finger, tracing shapes. He could imagine black ink following his finger, spreading into feathers, wings, into birds in mid-flight.

“When I was young, I could still see a bit. Things were blurry but I remember very distinctively this one calendar we had.” Baze was silent, though Chirrut could feel the other’s chin brush against his head. “The drawings were these ink paintings of birds, printed on thin paper. Every month, there was a different painting. Birds on bamboo leaves, on delicate flower branches. Chickens, cranes, blues, browns, greens and bright pinks.” He let his finger glide over the seat, filling it, in his mind, with birds of different shapes and sizes.

Baze shifted, and Chirrut felt his friend grasp his wrist, bringing it towards him. Chirrut hummed when his fingers brushed against skin.

“You’re running out of space there.”

“Am I?” He traced circles onto Baze’s arms, then swirling lines, “Guess I’ll have to make do with something else.”

The curve of a tree, then flower petals, bright pink, spreading outwards, reaching up to Baze’s shoulders. Then, into the clavicle, a small blue bird, singing to the sky, followed by another bird flying up his neck. Then one more, tail against jaw, wings against cheek, until his finger was pressed against lips.

“Chirrut.”

Baze’s breath was warm and a bit wet and Chirrut wanted, more than anything, to taste it.

So he did.

He reached up, hooked his arm around Baze’s neck, and kissed him.

Lips against lips, breath against breath.

Baze’s hands had wandered to his hips, hands on his waist and Chirrut could feel the other’s heart hammering in his chest, in tandem with his own.  

And when they pulled apart, Chirrut could only breathe out a quiet, “Hi.”

‘Hello.”

“My name is Chirrut Imwe.”

“Mine is Baze Malbus.”

“I’d like you to be my boyfriend.”

“I’d like to _be_ your boyfriend.”

“我喜欢你.”

Baze threw his head back, letting out a bark of laughter that cut through the peaceful silence of the bus. Immediately, there was groans of protest and whining, and Chirrut heard a ‘finally!’ from Kaya. Chirrut huffed, then leaned forward until he could rest his forehead again Baze’s.

Baze’s hands were warm, and he smelled like ink and fresh grass. He could hear Baze sigh, feel his heart - calm now - pressed close to his own. And, most importantly, he could feel Baze’s breath against his lips as he whispered, “I like you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> and then a bird swooped in through the open window and smacked baze's head, effectively ruining their moment.
> 
> 你从哪里来的? - Where are you from?  
> 你好. - Hello  
> 十年前, 我是北京来的. - Ten years ago, I arrived from Beijing  
> 现在, 我在跟你吃中午饭. - Right now, I’m eating lunch with you.  
> 我能陪你，聊你，和你笑. - Every day, I get to accompany you, talk to you, laugh with you  
> 一瞬间， 就成了珍贵. - In a sudden moment, this has become precious  
> 我喜欢你. 我真的喜欢你. - I like you. I really like you.


End file.
